


Flightless

by tawagato



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending, Growth, Gwen (OC) - Freeform, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rewrite, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, This kinda sucks, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23270167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawagato/pseuds/tawagato
Summary: There is probably a saying that describes how dark it is sometimes. Not the darkness of the night, kissed by the moon and her stars on a warm summer's night. Not the darkness within the shadows that follow people as they smile joyously and they laugh genuinely through the light snowfall of winter.Perhaps describing it as dark is not right. Darkness can be beautiful--the lights off in a room as two people in love spend the night together. The sky, illuminated by Leo the Lion and his siblings.It is not beautiful, and it has no potential to be. It is dreary, and it is shameful. It is ugly and it is sloth. It is powerful, digging its claws into people before tearing them apart. It rips apart the best of relationships and ensures complete and utter loneliness. It insinuates disgust and it begs for self-destruction.It is constantly there, constantly nagging. It is always oncoming; the dance of avoidance is never graceful. It can never be rid of a person. It waits, both in silence and the lack thereof. It stalks back and forth, never wavering. Its strength is unrivaled and ever growing, only ever being subdued. It waits until the perfect time to strike, and the perfect time to kill.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	1. Introduction

This is a rewrite (and completion) of a story I began writing four years ago. I have learned too much and grown too much to simply continue it, so please, bear with me.

I will be leaving the original story up, though it is not completed. I may take it down when this is finished--I have not yet decided. 

I hope you enjoy this sweet little story of mine, and I thank you for embarking on this journey with me :)


	2. At the Corner of First and Amistad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for partaking in this rewrite with me. I know that this chapter is heavier (much more so) than the original. The whole story won't be like this! 
> 
> Please, I ask that reader discretion is advised, as the topics and depictions, while not overly graphic, are slightly detailed. Just be safe as you move through this chapter if you decide it is safe enough for you to do so! If you wish to talk about it before or after you read, I am more than willing to have a healthy discussion about it! I know this is tough.
> 
> Soon, I hope to have a few drawings of how I envision these characters (especially Gwen, who you will be meeting in this first chapter!!!), and, I desperately hope I can actually animate a scene or two from this story. Will there be audio? No. Will it be good? Definitely not. Will it be fun to do regardless? Yes! I'll have a trial animation of a scene for a movie I shot done soon, and I am hoping it turns out well. It was my senior project and I don't think I'll be finishing it :/ Gotta keep myself uplifted somehow!

There is probably a saying that describes how dark it is sometimes. Not the darkness of the night, kissed by the moon and her stars on a warm summer's night. Not the darkness within the shadows that follow people as they smile joyously and they laugh genuinely through the light snowfall of winter.

Perhaps describing it as dark is not right. Darkness can be beautiful--the lights off in a room as two people in love spend the night together. The sky, illuminated by Leo the Lion and his siblings.

It is not beautiful, and it has no potential to be. It is dreary, and it is shameful. It is ugly and it is sloth. It is powerful, digging its claws into people before tearing them apart. It rips apart the best of relationships and ensures complete and utter loneliness. It insinuates disgust and it begs for self-destruction.

It is constantly there, constantly nagging. It is always oncoming; the dance of avoidance is never graceful. It can never be rid of a person. It waits, both in silence and the lack thereof. It stalks back and forth, never wavering. Its strength is unrivaled and ever growing, only ever being subdued. It waits until the perfect time to strike, and the perfect time to kill.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Akaashi Keiji lived in a world of perfection.

He was the perfect son--kind, well-mannered, and smart. He worked hard on his studies and reaped the benefits when he would get his graded materials returned to him. He was almost too polite, having people tell him he didn't have to be so formal with them all the time. He kept to himself, not opposing those around him. He went with whatever the people he was with wanted, and for that, he was seen as kind.

There was nothing that could be perceived as wrong with him. Yes, he was quiet, but at his age, it was a nice change of pace for the teachers burdened by the happy, loud students in their classes. True, he didn't have many close friends, but that was just because he was friends with everyone.

To everyone around him, Akaashi Keiji was perfect.

He was pretty, with pretty blue eyes and pretty dark hair. He was elegant, both in the way he conducted himself and in the way he spoke. He was, in every single sense of the word, perfect.

The facade of perfection that Keiji was forced to uphold worked to his parents' liking. They received ravish compliments about the wonderful son they had. Never once had they gotten a complaint.

Regardless, his parents didn't want him. They paid him no mind--only when necessary. He was young, but he raised himself. His parents led busy lifestyles, being the renowned lawyers they were. They had never wanted a child, but being so thoroughly against abortion had brought Keiji into the world. His grandmother insisted that her daughter keep him.

They were strict parents when they decided they wanted to be a part of Keiji's life. It was rare, but when Keiji did something poorly or made a mistake, he was punished harshly for it. His parents had no time for his missteps, no matter how small they may have been. There were times Keiji would do absolutely nothing, yet still find himself in his mother's bathroom as she aggressively tried to cover the bruises on his little body where need be.

The older he grew, the more aggressive they got. He asked once to join his school's volleyball team, telling his parents that a nice boy had asked him to play. It was the first time he had been asked to do something with the other kids in his class; the boy with the sweet honey eyes and pale hair had given him the biggest smile Keiji has ever been given. Never had Keiji been so truly excited about something.

He was only eight at the time, but the night he asked his parents was the night he learned very well just how thin a line he walked upon. When his teacher asked him the following school day how he had broken his arm, he lied as his father had told him to.

"I fell down the stairs."

He was instructed to tell the boy who had asked him that he could not play because of his broken arm, and he did just that. The boy, who was a year his senior, frowned sadly and told Keiji that he hoped his arm felt better.

It hadn't healed until after school was out. His father had done that on purpose, to ensure that his son could not disobey him.

Things continued on in this manner throughout Keiji's school experience. When Keiji was thirteen, he got lesser marks on his test than usual. He already knew what to expect.

He didn't want to leave school that day.

He braced himself on a chair, his shirt off. His skin was exposed to the cold air of his home, the bones that threatened to break through prominent. His father stood above him, a rope designated to this activity in hand.

His father would never ruin a belt for this. Ropes hurt more anyways.

He was hit three times for every point he had missed. His father said nothing, and Keiji made no noise. He endured, as he was taught to do. When his father was done, he told Keiji to take a hot shower. He did, wincing as he forced his back into the steaming water, watching as it fell into the drain with a twinge of pink. Keiji had never liked the metallic smell of his own blood. Now, it seemed to overwhelm him.

He ignored his thoughts. When he got out of the shower, his father made him walk, naked, to his room.

Keiji felt ashamed.

"Study better this time," was all his father said.

Keiji had searched for a way out, a way to breathe. He was so confined, and he did not want it. He had tried to end his life once. In the dead of night, he sneaked into his mother's medicine cabinet and found one of the orange bottles, figuring those would be a more absolute choice. He had taken them all. His mother found him in her bathroom in the midst of a seizure. 

She did not want to call for an ambulance.

It was his father who called the emergency dispatch center, who sent someone out immediately. He had almost died that night. He was comatose for three days afterwards.

As soon as he was released from the hospital--although it was against the advisement of the staff, as they believed Keiji needed admission to the adolescent psychiatric ward--his father nearly beat him to death for causing such an inconvenience to his parents. The bruises left after that stayed and ached for a very long time. They reminded him that there was no way out, not even death.

Except when he was admitted as a first-year to one of the most prestigious schools in Tokyo.

Coming from his hometown of Takayama, being accepted to a school all the way in Tokyo was a miracle--even more so because his parents eagerly agreed to let him go. They could not come with him, however, so he would be going alone.

Keiji had never been more baffled in his life. He had been amazed enough over being accepted, but his parents agreeing? And letting him go alone?

Keiji smiled to himself as he returned to his bedroom after the conversation with his parents. And he had thought someone asking him to play volleyball was the most exciting thing in the world.

His mother told him he would be leaving in three days time--she found him a cheap apartment no more than a five minute walk from school. She told him that he would have to be on his best behavior for this to work, and she laid the ground rules. She told him that she and his father would be visiting at random--he realized that this was hardly an escape from home.

Keiji had looked at his mother. She was a beautiful woman, all angular features and tanned skin. They looked very similar, although Keiji had his father's steely gaze and pale visage. She had long hair, although she never wore it town. It always sat in a low, tight bun. Stray pieces would frame her face at the end of a long day working, but otherwise, she always looked completely put together. She had thin eyes that had been glazed over by the most minimalistic makeup possible, as she did not need any more. She was tall and thin, but still had a desirable figure. 

He wished he could be happy that he had such a beautiful mother. He wished that he could go to the friends he would have made at school and talk all about his amazing mom. She was tainted by an ugliness unbecoming of her, though, and he had no friends at school to talk to about his pretty mother.

He had shot a small, quick glance at his father before he made his retreat to his room. He was tall, broad shoulders and built body making him appear larger than life to Keiji. He carried himself proudly, looking down upon those he deemed smaller than him. That seemed like most people, an observation Keiji easily made and dutifully kept to himself. 

Keiji almost gleefully packed the few belongings he had the night before he was scheduled to leave. He placed all of his clothes, refolded, neatly into one of the boxes his father had thrown into his room from the attic. They all fit into one box--his drawers had never been very full.

He stuck the small picture frame he kept on his desk in between his clothes to ensure its safety. It was a family picture, taken when he was four. He looked so happy, smiling alongside his parents. They both looked poise, but the smile on his father's face hidden ever so slightly by his beard made his heart warm. It seemed genuine. It made something in his stomach churn, though, wishing that he still felt like he had a family.

The only thing he didn't pack was his sheets and a thin blanket--it was March now, the chill of the air keeping his house the same temperature. The air nipped at his skin, but he was too excited about packing everything to have thought about keeping his thicker blanket out. He couldn't be bothered to dig through the second of the three boxes he had to retrieve it.

He left out a stuffed animal, too. It was old and worn from love over the years. It was an owl his grandmother had given him before she passed. It was small, and it certainly wasn't anything special. Keiji loved it nonetheless.

He slept soundly that night, readying himself for the day ahead.

-

His father gave him quite the departing lecture, followed by the gift of a slightly bruised chin from where he had grabbed his son rather harshly. His mother called a cab to take him to Tokyo.

They helped Keiji load his belongings into the car silently. There were three boxes--it really wasn't any kind of hassle. They did not kiss him goodbye, or spare him a loving hug. His father left as soon as the car was loaded, returning to the work he had previously abandoned inside. His mother, however, wavered.

She looked almost kind in this moment with her son, who was now buckled into the backseat of the cab. "You be good, you hear? I want no trouble from you." Her voice was soft, and Keiji desperately wanted to see it as loving.

"I understand, Mama," he said, avoiding her eyes. 

She sighed. "That's a good boy," she responded. "This is for food when you get there. No sweets, nothing too heavy with carbs. You know the rules." She handed him a tiny wad of cash before awkwardly patting his shoulder and standing out of the car. She shut the door with a wave of finality. 

As the cab drove away, Keiji felt hollow. He knew his parents had never wanted him, he really did. He knew that he had caused them a lot of trouble, but for some reason, as he was sent away so easily, so willingly, the ache in his heart grew.

He would not cry, though. Not here, not now. He had a full day ahead of him; he was opening new doors.

His trip to Tokyo was long, and he thanked the poor cab driver he knew his parents had paid well for the ride. He stood outside of his new apartment building, swarmed by the business of Tokyo. He had never been to such a bustling place before, but it made him all that more excited about being in such a place.

He got settled into his flat quickly after talking to the kind man at the front desk, who seemed confused by his age but willing to help nonetheless. It was, as most things in his life were, nothing special to look at. It had the smallest kitchen he had ever seen right next to a common area with a dingy couch and a little television sitting on a wooden table. There was a small hallway that led to his bedroom and his bathroom, both small and nothing to gawk at. 

And yet, with absolutely nothing, Keiji had never felt so full. He happily unpacked his belongings, making sure to be as cautious about his organization as he would be at home. When he put the picture frame on the tiny desk in his room, he smiled sadly. That photograph was a fantasy he kept with him. He made his bed, making sure to place his owl on his pillow. When he finished unpacking, he folded the boxes neatly and slid them under his bed. He felt accomplished, but knew he had to get to the store for food before the little convenience store he spotted on the drive to his apartment closed. 

He quickly cleaned himself up, dressing in something warm. He wrapped a scarf around his neck, making sure it covered his chin. He saw the bruises from his father's hand as he was getting ready, and he knew better than to leave them uncovered. He wished he had asked his mother for whatever it was she used to cover his other bruises with.

Deciding he wouldn't need it after this anyways, he embarked on his short journey to the convenience store. It had a funny sign above it, reading "Gordon's Mini Mart" in all English. In all honesty, that was the only reason he saw it. It was helpful regardless, so he made his way inside.

The door had a tiny bell on it, ringing as he walked inside. He smiled politely at the older woman behind the counter before continuing on his mission to find bread and other small necessities he may need throughout the week. 

He was almost alone in the store--two other boys, both somewhere around his age, were there as well. They talked about what Keiji could only assume to be references to video games and movies he had never been allowed to partake in the joys of experiencing. They were loud, and to him, that seemed like an incredible feat of immaturity.

As he walked around with the basket he had grabbed at the front, he made his way to where the bread was based off of little English indicators on the side of each isle. To his dismay, the only whole wheat--which is what he both wanted and needed--was on the highest shelf. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was climb on the shelving to reach it. Scratch that; the last thing he wanted to do was ask someone for help. The cashier was even shorter than he was, so his only option for aid would be one of the other boys in the store. He refused to ask them for help. Absolutely, completely, and utterly refused.

Just as he was about to resign himself to buying the white bread his mother would be displeased with him for buying after trying his best to reach for that bread on the top shelf, a voice cut through his thoughts.

"Need some help?"

It startled Keiji--he had whipped his head around so fast that the boy standing in front of him seemed taken back. His eyes had widened ever so slightly, dark copper meeting steely blue. Keiji had never seen such warm eyes before, especially not when they were looking down on his own. 

The boy was taller than he was, sporting a lean build. His hair was dark, flying in every direction. Keiji thought he looked like he had just woken up, especially considering the sweatpants and sweatshirt he very clearly just haphazardly threw on. He gave Keiji a small smile before wordlessly reaching for the bread Keiji had wanted and handing it to him politely.

With cheeks dusted in pink, Keiji looked down at the bread now in his hands before looking back at the boy before him, not quite meeting his gaze. "Thank you," he said quietly.

The boy studied him quizzically. He had watched the smaller reach for the bread, and in doing so, the scarf that was dutifully covering the bruises had fallen slightly, revealing what was trying to be hidden. The boy was taken back, not sure if he should say something or not. They definitely didn't seem like they came from any _lustful experience_ , judging by the other's character.

The boy decided not to meddle in a stranger's life, instead helping where he could by grabbing the bread the other couldn't reach.

Before he could respond to the thanks he had received, his friend called out for him. "Kuroo! Where'd you go?" The person behind the voice popped around the corner, finding his friend and another boy, who seemed incredibly nervous. "Oh, there you are. Hello there!"

Keiji was not made out for this. At all. He watched in both amazement and fear as another person walked over to him, this time being a little shorter than the last. His hair was also everywhere, but it seemed purposeful. It was both pale and dark--it reminded him of the owl sitting on his pillow. He waved enthusiastically at Keiji, who stared with wide eyes as he slowly returned the gesture. His eyes were so, so kind.

"What did you do to the poor boy, Kuroo? Please tell me you didn't hurt him."

"What? No, of course not. I was helping him, duh," Kuroo retorted in fake modesty.

"Yes, helping him," the other boy said, rolling his eyes. Turning his gaze to Keiji, he smiled widely. "He wasn't rude, was he?"

As Akaashi shook his head, Kuroo grinned. "See? I'm always this kind."

The two boys started to banter, making Keiji uncomfortable. He couldn't just leave, but he didn't really want to stay. He needed to finish shopping and get home before his father called. It was something he or his mother would be doing nightly at eight.

"Kuroo-san?" He called gently, stopping the scuffle in seconds. "Thank you for helping me."

Kuroo laughed heartily. "It wasn't a problem. Say, you go to school around here?"

"Yes, I will be starting my first year at Fukurodani soon."

"Hey, hey, hey!" The other boy said, hanging off his friend. "That's where I go! Bokuto Koutarou," he smiled, extending his hand. Keiji looked at it, hesitating before shaking it. It was the kindest physical contact that he'd had in awhile, making his lips turn upward slightly.

"Akaashi Keiji. It's nice to meet you, Bokuto-san," he replied before letting go of Bokuto's hand.

The telltale ding of a text notification came from Kuroo's pocket. He pulled it out to see what it was, frowning. "Hey, dude, we gotta go. My mom wants us back," he said to Bokuto, who pouted.

"Ah, man. Guess we'll see you around, Akaashi!" Bokuto flashed a contagious smile as he began to follow Kuroo out of the store. Keiji caught the short look Kuroo shot him before he left the store. He paid no mind to it.

He stood in the middle of the isle, bewildered. He was confused. Is this how people usually acted? Was it just those two? At a loss for words and for thought, he meandered around the store in almost a daze, slowly collecting the rest of what he needed. 

Before making it to the register, he sighed. Both Kuroo and Bokuto were...strange to him. Bokuto was so energetic, something Keiji had never been privy to. He had intense eyes and warm smiles. He hadn't met someone like that, not in the fifteen years he'd been alive. Kuroo, on the other hand, had bored holes right through him. He was nice, that was a given; but he scared Keiji. Not in the way his father scared him, but Keiji was scared that he knew. With just one look, he knew everything. That was a terrifying idea, but it was easily pushed to the side. There was nothing for Kuroo to even know.

Right?

He walked over to the little old lady behind the counter, smiling politely at her as he set his few items down. She scanned them all, a content look on her face. She was small--she had very wrinkled skin, and her hands were obviously calloused from long days of working with her hands. She was very clearly not Japanese, Keiji assuming she was from America. Her graying hair gave her age away, but her face spoke of youthful emotions.

She looked up at Keiji as she bagged his items. "Do you know those two?" She had been referring to Bokuto and Kuroo, who had long since left the market.

"Oh, no, I don't. One of them had just helped me grab something I couldn't reach," he responded.

Something about that made the woman laugh, and Keiji thought her voice sounded like honey. "They come around here all of the time. Silly boys they are! Love 'em to death," she spoke happily. She hummed away at her work, finishing by placing the bags on the counter before her.

Keiji smiled lightly. "They seem nice," he said.

"I take it you're not from around here. You don't seem very city-like," she inquired. 

"I'm from the Takayama area." The cashier looked up from the register, her smile a bit smaller the before.

"Takayama? That's quite the distance. Did your parent's job transfer them here?" She asked, her welcoming gaze still on Keiji. 

Keiji, though, looked down at his hands. "I came here alone, both my mother and father still reside back at home," he spoke softly, flipping through his money to give the woman the right amount.

The woman was evidently taken back by such information. "You're here in the city alone? You can't be older than fifteen, right? Why are you in Tokyo?"

Keiji scratched at the back of his neck, sighing. "I wished to go to a school here and my parents were eager to let me go."

A frown formed on the senior's lips as Keiji carefully took his groceries. "Now that's not right. One of them shoulda tagged along with you. It's dangerous out there, especially when you're traveling alone. Be careful, you hear?"

"Of course, miss. Thank you for your concern," Keiji bowed in respect.

Smile returning, the old woman laughed. "There's no need for the formalities. Just call me Gwen, okay? You seem like a sweet boy, so please stop by again. I'd like to be sure your alright here without your parents."

"I'll come here often, Gwen-san," Keiji promised. There was a gentle smile upon his face, soft and genuine. He left the store after waving and exchanging goodbyes. There was something about Gwen that made Keiji's heart very warm. He liked her--she had a good heart.

The trip back to his apartment was quiet and uneventful. He had made it in time for his father's call, which, to Keiji's delight, was short. He slowly put his groceries away, feeling no need to rush.

There was a lot on Keiji's mind when he went to sleep that night. He set his alarm for the crack of dawn on the small clock on his desk before climbing into bed. He was curled under his blankets, the air just as cold as back home. He held his owl close to his chest, deep in thought. He was unsure of very much now, particularly about other people.

He didn't know complete strangers could be so kind.

He didn't know anybody could be so kind.

As he thought, the warmth of his blankets and the warmth in his heart lulled him into a sound, dreamless sleep.

He fell asleep smiling.


	3. Heart Made of Glass, My Mind of Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I changed things up with this part of the story (which, to that: this chapter could have been so much longer as, in the original, the interview was also a part of this. I thought that this would be a better place to stop, and I'll pick back up right where this chapter was left off). I'm very excited about where I now plan to take this story, and it's going to have a bunch of additional characters that weren't a part of this before.
> 
> In advance: Kuroo Tetsurou, I love you and I'm sorry. 
> 
> If you want a song as food for thought for this entire story, I'm liking Trauma by NF for this. It's a great song by an amazing artist that I highly recommend. There's a playlist on YouTube that I enjoy, so maybe I'll put the link in the next chapter.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this for now and look forward to seeing this story play out! I promise this IS a BokuAka story, by the way. All will make sense soon ;)

Keiji woke to silence. Taking a glance at his clock from across the room, he realized it was four in the morning, which meant that, theoretically speaking, he could have gotten at least two more hours of sleep. Alas, once Keiji was up, his body refused to rest again. Rather than bother trying, he made his way into the bathroom after picking out a set of clothes.

He drowsily turned on the shower, making sure it was warm, but not hot. Hot showers were not for relaxing--they were a punishment. The water streaming inconsistently from the faucet was on the colder side, but Keiji was too tired to truly care. The chill of the water would help wake him up.

His showers never lasted very long; he didn't like looking at himself. It wasn't unreasonable, seeing as there were a few too many scars to count. He had deserved them, he knew that, but that didn't mean he liked looking at the way they tainted his skin in ugly ways.

For some reason, though, he stared intently at the scars he could see, analyzing them. He knew where each one came from, and what he received it for. Some of them were not even scars yet, still being wounds that needed time to heal. He was buried in his thoughts as the water pelted his bare back, deep in realization that this was his reality now. He was alone in a place far away from his parents, and he did not know anyone who would come looking for him. Essentially, he could have almost easily finished what he had tried to do just a year prior. 

He couldn't though, not after being handed such an opportunity. He would force himself to wait it out, see how things went.

After all, it was an option now.

Keiji removed himself from his mind, finished his shower, and dried himself off. He dressed simply, but made sure it was warm enough for walking in the cold March air. He had planned to look for a job, as per his mother's instruction. She told him that she would be paying for no more than the apartment and the necessary amenities, which left him in need of a way to pay for groceries and a phone (if he wanted one that wasn't stuck to the wall in his kitchen).

Deciding it was too early to try to walk to a library, he forced himself to make breakfast. He walked slowly into the kitchen, his footsteps almost nonexistent in sound. He didn't have much--he only had a gas stove and oven to work with. He didn't have any pans, pans, or utensils either, and he realized he probably should have thought about that before he went to the store the night prior. Then again, it wouldn't have really mattered; he only had a bit of cash left. Frowning heavily at the fact that he would have to wait at least three weeks for basic house supplies (given he got a job that day and started working the next), he grabbed a plain piece of bread and sat himself squat on the couch in the room beside him. With the realization that he also needed to make the food he had bought last for longer than he planned, he almost put the bread back. He at it despite that, though, and vowed to make a plan when he returned home later.

Finishing his 'breakfast', he busied himself with whatever he could. He studied, he cleaned. Anything he could do to keep organized and productive. That being said, there wasn't much to study, given school hadn't started yet, and there wasn't much to clean, given he moved in less than twenty four hours ago. 

When he had scoured enough to keep busy for two hours, he decided to walk around the city. He had absolutely nothing better to do, and with the sun finally peeking over the horizon, it was at least light enough out for him to deem it an acceptable time to go out. 

He dressed warmly, using the same thin scarf to cover the same, slowly-fading bruises. He made sure to lock his door before he left.

He walked aimlessly on the sidewalks of Tokyo, taking in the experience with all that he could. It was early still, but the cars on their way to work zipped by him. He would watch the cars go by, picking a few out and making up funny stories about each person in the car. He would listen to the engines of stopped cars, waiting for the traffic light to allow them passage. He would overhear the conversations of those who walked by him, whether they were walking fast-paced and to their workplace, on the phone with a coworker or whether they were two friends dropping into a coffee shop together before going their separate ways for the day. He could feel the chill of the air seep through his coat, the air biting at his fingers and his toes. Gloves might have been a good idea, but he didn't have any. A hat might have been nice as well--the tips of his ears were red with the cold. All things considered, it wasn't all that cold to begin with. The weather in Tokyo was never freezing, but to Keiji, it sure felt like it was. He was not a fan of the cold. He liked it to be warm, but not hot. Combined with the typical March weather, the wind of the early morning without the sun just was not his cup of tea.

He walked for hours. He didn't mind; there was so much to see, so much to take in. He tried to stay relatively close to his apartment building, as he had no way of just getting back to it if he didn't either memorize the way he had come from or stay within enough distance to see it peeking above the shorter buildings around it. He had seen his end goal of a location on his drive to Tokyo as well, the library being a manageable walk straight down the street from where he lived. 

Keiji found his way to the library at eight in the morning. He went with the hope to find a job by searching on the computers for anything nearby. He was relatively successful in his search--he figured he would be, as many students didn't enjoy having jobs at the start of the school year. He understood that, and honestly agreed with it. He didn't necessarily want a job, but he knew he needed one and he figured an added distraction might help. 

He applied for a few places that caught his eye, his favorite and the one he was the most hopeful for being a children's daycare open later than most. It meant he could work after school without unreasonable hours, and the pay was nice. Working with kids couldn't be hard, right? He was a kid once. 

He figured being a kid was harder than watching them.

Keiji did not overstay his welcome at the library and began his journey home when he was satisfied with his applications and submitted them. He was glad he got home when he did, for the kitchen phone was ringing as he was taking off his shoes by the front door.

Still wearing his coat and scarf, he gingerly answered the phone with a polite, inquisitive greeting.

"Hi! Is this Akaashi Keiji?" The voice on the phone was a woman's, and she seemed very bubbly. 

Keiji responded with a very light smile on his face. "Yes, it is. Who's asking?"

The woman on the line sounded excited in her reply. "This is Kijiwara Hiroko from the Happy Faces Daycare Center! I got your application this morning--I would love to have you in for an interview if you're interested!"

Keiji almost could not contain how happy he was that the singular place he really wanted to work at had called him, especially so fast. He figured that meant they were pretty understaffed, but it's not like Keiji was opposed to working a lot. He almost wanted to just bury himself into work, if he could. "Yeah, that would be great, Kijiwara-san."

"Awesome!" She said. There was a brief pause before she said anything else. "All right! If tomorrow works for you, we could do that! If not, Friday works as well!"

"I can do tomorrow. What time would be best?"

"Oh, fantastic! I would love to have you here with one of the workers who's leaving for the year, so let me see," she paused again, and Keiji figured it was to look at the schedule of the aforementioned worker to see when he or she would be coming in. "How does two sound?"

The small smile on Keiji's face grew just a little. "That sounds perfect."

"Great! I'll see you then!" With the distinctive sound of the line closing, Keiji placed the phone back on its mount before turning around to take off his coat and the scarf. He walked over to his front door, where hooks were lined on the wall beside it. He hung both up, the black of the coat and the navy of the scarf contrasting heavily with the light gray of the wall. 

Keiji fished out the wallet sitting in his coat pocket. He needed to make sure he had what he assumed would be enough to find what he needed at the store to cover the marks his father had left. He didn't want to wear a scarf during an interview--that seemed off-putting. He had gone into the bathroom after taking off his coat, staring down the bruises that still heavily contrasted against his pale skin. He had never been one to heal particularly fast, and when his father had grabbed him so roughly and held on so tight--

He forced the recollection out of his head ferociously. He didn't want it, _he didn't want it_. With a heavy inhale and deep exhale, as he had practiced so many times before, he focused on the problem looking back through him in the mirror. He knew his mother used some kind of makeup, not that he really knew what it was she used or how to cover the bruises properly. She could call and ask her, but he would have liked to avoid that if at all possible. He couldn't do any kind of online research without a computer, and that required going back to the library. He didn't really want to do that either, since he figured it would seem weird to go twice in one day, just an hour or two apart.

He could just go to the store, buy something, and hoped it worked out. He had no friends to ask, nobody to consult. He wouldn't bring this up to them anyways, even if he had the opportunity. Nobody needed to know. It was his problem. He knew that. The idea of asking the woman at the store--Gwen--had played at his mind, but he pushed it down. He couldn't even go to her store to buy this. She would ask, and Keiji needed to avoid that. The only other store nearby was much farther than hers, but he figured he would have to just suck it up and walk the mile or two it would take. 

That being said, he didn't want to go back out right then, so he saved it for after he took some more time to clean and study, those being the only two things he knew how to do and, albeit, his only options.

He gave himself three hours at home before going back out. His walk was very different from the one he had taken during the early hours of the morning. The city was bustling, despite him not even being in the center of it. There were so many people walking, talking, living. It was a sight and a half to see, Keiji decided. He was thankful for the opportunity to see it.

As he walked down the street, out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw the one boy from the store walking on the opposite side, travelling in the opposite direction with someone new beside him. To be fair, his hair stood out in a crowd with ease, but Keiji didn't want to turn his head to confirm or deny his suspicions. There was something about that boy in particular--his bright, lively eyes and his two-toned hair that went everywhere--that made him want to know more, but scared him to death. Bokuto, he recalled, seemed so genuine and so happy and it made Keiji's heart feel funny.

The funny feeling in his heart was in no way welcome. Not at all. Keiji forced himself to stop thinking about him. He didn't want to get attached in any way or want anything more from that boy than the meeting they had once at one store that would never happen again. He had to focus on school, he had to follow his parents' rules. He might have been distanced from them, but they remained by his side, constantly breathing down his neck.

So he didn't look back to see if it was Bokuto or not. He forced himself to look downwards, focusing on what he needed to get from the store. 

The rest of his walk was calm. He walked into the new store, much newer and brighter than the one he had visited the night prior. Everything was in Japanese here, which made him feel more at ease. It was normal.

He guided himself to the women's section of the store, which he found to be very small. He looked at all of the labels of the products, some of the things so obviously not what he was looking for that it put him at ease. 

He had been so intent in his search that he missed the person standing above him. It wasn't any kind of threatening presence, but when the person spoke, Keiji certainly reacted as if it was.

"Funny seeing you here," Kuroo said, voice deep and soft. Despite how kindly he spoke, Keiji's entire body jolted as he whipped his head to look above him. For a split second, Kuroo only saw pure terror in Keiji's eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Keiji's heart was pounding aggressively, the sound of it nearly drowning out any of his common sense. He calmed himself, though, angry that he would react so harshly to someone saying hello, meaning no harm. If he hadn't already proved that there was something wrong with him, this surely didn't help him appear particularly normal. "No, it's alright, Kuroo-san."

Kuroo squatted to his level. "You looking for something to cover that?" He asked, pointing to the bruises peeking just ever so slightly over the scarf Keiji was wearing. Tetsurou figured that's why he was wearing it, and honestly, if he hadn't seen the bruises the day prior, he wouldn't have noticed them at all.

Tetsurou knew it was none of his business. He knew, for a fact, that he shouldn't be meddling with a stranger's life problems. But, he wasn't stupid--he could put what he knew together and assume this kid had gone through a lot in his life. Tetsurou also really wasn't the type to care about boundaries or personal space. He was invasive. He couldn't help it. He had been walking by the storefront on his way home from work and happened to watch as the boy he knew as Akaashi walk in. He seriously couldn't stop himself from following. He didn't want to seem creepy; that was not his intention. He followed Akaashi out of genuine curiosity and a deep-set worry that he had. That worry was also unintentional. He didn't know the kid, and yet, he kind of cared about his well being. Tetsurou thought it was strange.

Eh, he was a pretty boy with mysterious eyes and a presence that almost didn't exist, unless one looked hard enough. Totally not Tetsurou's fault he was drawn to him.

The reaction he got from the question was subtle, but Tetsurou picked up on it. He watched as Akaashi's eyes widened, his hand unconsciously reaching to pull up on his scarf. 

Keiji slowly looked over at Kuroo out of the corner of his eye. Why was this boy even here? Who was he to scare Keiji like that, then go and ask him something so personal when they didn't even know each other? How did he know about the bruises? 

As if answering the unasked question, Kuroo continued: "I saw them yesterday."

Keiji was upset, and that much was clear. He didn't know what to say to the one next to him. Was he supposed to explain himself? No, he couldn't do that. How was he supposed to come up with a lie that worked, though? How does someone explain this kind of a thing?

Apparently, he didn't have to say anything. Kuroo had grabbed something, holding up two to Keiji's face, which startled him. Keiji studied Kuroo's features, being that they were so close and he didn't know what else to do but stare. He didn't want to say anything out of line that would upset Kuroo, no matter how frustrated Keiji was with him.

Kuroo was attractive, Keiji thought. He had nice features and he held himself very confidently. Keiji very much liked his eyes, which were completely focused on him at the moment. There was an undeniable sense of comfort that Keiji got from Kuroo, and it seemed offputting that he would be comfortable at all around someone. Maybe it was just because he had no other choice but to bear it, seeing as he refused to say anything against how close Kuroo was to him. Kuroo had a strong jawline and his hair, wildly unkempt as it may have been, suit him. He was wearing jeans, covered in a layer of dog hair.

Maybe he had a dog? 

The tee shirt under the jacket he had been wearing read something, though Keiji wasn't sure what. It seemed like a uniform, though, and it made Keiji wonder where Kuroo worked and what he did. He was wearing thick, black boots. They seemed uncomfortable. 

"Here, use this one. I think it'll match well enough," Kuroo said, breaking Keiji from his thoughts. He looked down at what Kuroo was holding out to him. It looked right, based on what Keiji remembered his mother using. It read 'concealer' boldly, and since he was trying to hide something, he figured it was right. It's not like he knew the difference.

Keiji decided that he wouldn't say anything or bring up that Kuroo had seen the bruises. It genuinely did not matter. "Thank you," he replied, bewildered. 

Tetsurou smiled. "No problem." He stood, cautiously reaching his hand out to Akaashi. He didn't want to move too fast and scare him again; Kenma was the same way, he thought, but as far as Tetsurou could tell, the reason was far different. Regardless, he knew how to be slow and careful around his friend. No reason he couldn't do the same for Akaashi when he pretty clearly needed it. 

Realizing how jumpy Akaashi was almost made Tetsurou feel badly. He knew that he was a pretty outgoing person, Koutarou even more so. They had both clearly scared him yesterday as well, but Tetsurou just hadn't realized. He didn't mean to, but even so, he felt poorly for doing so. 

Keiji hadn't taken the makeup from Kuroo before standing up, but when he did, he let Kuroo's lingering hand stay before taking it.

After that, the two stood in an awkward silence. Neither really knew what to say, and for Tetsurou, that was a first.

To be taken so aback by someone that he was speechless? Tetsurou knew that Akaashi had captivated him, but not in any way more than complete and utter curiosity. This was a level of astonishment, of interest, that he didn't know. Akaashi was so perplexing, so different than anyone Tetsurou had met before. It made him want to know more, to delve deeper. The chances of Akaashi allowing that were slim, and he knew that. Nothing to lose if he tried, though, right?

It was Keiji's turn to interrupt whatever it was Kuroo was thinking about. "I appreciate this, Kuroo-san."

Even someone as dense as Koutarou would have gotten the underlying message that Akaashi was trying to convey. Something about it stabbed Tetsurou in a funny way. Akaashi was clearly trying his best to keep himself and his story protected, and Tetsurou knew he couldn't push that. 

Yet. 

"Can I walk you home?"

Something in Keiji twisted venomously. He knew the answer to that. No, Kuroo Tetsurou could not walk him home. Every scar, every lasting bruise seemed to ache as a reminder of that. He was not allowed to say yes to Kuroo walking him home.

He whispered out a yes, so quiet Kuroo almost couldn't hear him. But he did hear it, and the corners of his mouth turned upward.


End file.
